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Kyle Oct 2019
A feverish dream under the phantom twilight,
The tiny hamlet rests on a colossal pumpkin,
The gargantuan bulbous emerges every Hallow’s Eve
Carrying with it an ominous kin,
The Pumpkin Folk are eccentric & gaunt,
From Dainty Betty to Growling Bob,
They speak very little, eyes bloodshot,
Bent on making menacing faces on Jack-O-Lanterns,
The air sweetens as they carve & peel,
Until an unfamiliar gallop draws near,
The headless rider with an ethereal glow knows no halt,
His battle charge mocks the very tempest Nature spawned,
Terror looms over the Pumpkin Folk but their Elder came forth,
‘Oh Great Fiend, what is it you seek?’

*******! Your pumpkin island looked smaller up North
Guess the perfect head will have to wait
Happy Halloween
Nis Dec 2018
Cut and gone.
It was easy.

Why?
you would ask.
Cut and gone.
It was easy.


You see,
for some trans folk,
most I dare say,
it's not cut and gone.
Your name,
the way people used to call you,
to know you
to be with you.
It's not easy.

That's why,
many of us
grow multiple heads.
One for my family who wouldn't love me,
one for my closest friend, whom I trust;
one for the random person who reads my poetry online...
I'm fed up with it.
I don't want to keep having multiple heads,
I want my family to know me for who I am,
not the head I made out of their memories.
I want to be me,
and I'm Nis.
That's why I came out on twitter,
that's why I'm erasing this pen name
and letting my true head speak,
that's why I will be soon cutting contact
with those that refuse to see me for who I am.

This is the end of Headless Starfish,
but I'm not gone,
so be it.
I cut it,
and it is gone.
Yep, I'm removing my mask and putting my real (and not so far from legal) name on my poems. I have to group together all of this identities I've been developing trying to hide the fact that I'm trans, that I express like one, and pull through as my true self; be it in my poems, the Internet or the real world.
Blade Maiden Jul 2018
I take my imaginary pen
I write down my anger
I close my eyes and count to ten
just to breathe a little longer

It's laughable really
when I see you justifying
Sure, you're all touchy-feely
only goodwill, so hard-trying

When you said that to me
where was your heart at?
Why calling me your better-half-to-be
when all you wanted was a shoulder pat?

Oh you, with your wonderful poetry,
oh, lies so beautifully written down
please just stop, you don't know no poverty
in your emerald sea everything you wanted me to believe is to drown

I never thought you would make me think
the worst of you instead
And I swear I could only stand and stare and shrink
when you didn't care to lose your head

Now you haunt me like the headless horseman
and you will forever
but I do not worry for my sanity, oh boy of thoughts turned cyan
I walked with ghosts before and a headless one is so less clever

And if you ever come back looking for this head of yours
Think twice, try a little bit harder wannabe
It might stick out of the sand at your emerald sea shores
Your love for me was never poetry
Looking out of this open space,
bizarrely, I find I’ve no face!
When I point to myself,
there’s no “man in good health,”
but a finger, pointing to no place.
See http://www.headless.org for more information.
Akemi Jun 2014
I’m such a drag
Pull me in your breath
Watch me disappear

I’m a headless lover
Heartless friend
6:28am, June 10th 2014

I'm so awkward. I can't read people. I'm selfish. Stupid.

— The End —